


eyes wide, awake

by liadela



Category: The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Feelings, Feelings, First Kiss, Late at Night, M/M, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3459026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadela/pseuds/liadela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s late, and Jude can’t sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eyes wide, awake

**Author's Note:**

> Set an indeterminate amount of time after 2x03.

Ninety-eight … 

Ninety-nine … 

One hundred.

There are exactly one hundred steps between each street light, and exactly sixteen street lights between Connor’s house and his own. Jude counts each one as he makes his way home, “forgetting” that it’s after midnight and he promised Callie he’d never do this again.

It’s his own fault. He never should have agreed to spend the night at Connor’s.

He can’t blame Mariana’s curious, ‘ _You and Connor have a fight or something? I thought you guys were like, inseparable_ ’ on Monday, or the concerned face Callie’s been making since Tuesday. She must have talked to Mariana. And it wasn’t Wednesday with Jesus and his annoying, ‘ _You know, pretty much everyone’s got a date Friday night except you_.’ 

None of them are why Thursday, when Connor cornered him at his locker and asked if he wanted to come over and maybe spend the night Friday, a nervous, hopeful expression on his face, Jude didn’t have the heart to say no. 

That was all Jude, his own weakness, and guilt. 

He’d wanted to say no and that, whatever that was, he can’t even blame on Connor’s dad, though he wishes he could. It’s not Mr. Stevens’ fault that some days Jude would rather duck into an empty classroom than eat lunch with his son, or goes to class early to avoid running into Connor at their lockers. Like it’s not Mr. Stevens’ fault that even though the boys can be friends again, openly, and Connor can come over, Jude doesn’t invite him.

Jude’s sure Connor’s noticed, is noticing everyday, but he hasn’t said anything. He just keeps coming around, trying, acting normal, like there’s anything normal about the way Jude’s treating him. There’s not, and Jude’s not even sure why it’s happening. But he thinks it might go back before Connor’s dad and spinning bottle apps. Before Maddie even got his phone number. But that’s when things started to feel different. 

That he started to feel different. 

Finally home, Jude sighs. Looking up at the dark house, he realizes he didn’t really think it through when he left Connor’s house, not really. He doesn’t have a key, and he doesn’t want to explain himself to his moms, but it seems like a bad idea to break into a house with a police officer sleeping inside. 

He’s not sure how long he stands there, but he’s about ready to give up and sleep on the porch swing, use his backpack as a pillow, when a familiar voice stops him.

“Hey.”

Text. He should have texted Brandon. Brandon would have opened the door and, even if he was curious why Jude was on the other side, he wouldn’t get involved. They would have just gone upstairs, gone to bed, and Jude would have been granted a six hour reprieve. Seems obvious now as Jude turns, reluctantly, to face the boy behind him.

Connor, in the same clothes he wore to school that day, standing across the street, all by himself, looking back at Jude with tired eyes. 

Nervously, Jude looks back at his house, up the street, anywhere but at Connor until his eyes land on the safe, square patch of sidewalk under his feet. Unmarked and even, completely unlike the sidewalks where they lived before. Jude scuffs the toe of his shoe against the pavement, and hears Connor step off the curb, snapping white streaks dragging his attention to Connor’s sneakers. 

Jude frowns. The laces are still untied. 

Connor had been in a rush.

Guilt squeezes at Jude’s insides and propels him forward, half-running to meet Connor in the middle of the street. 

“What are you - ” 

“Why did you leave?” 

Connor’s words come out rough, with an edge that stops Jude short, leaving the question he had been hoping to avoid, at least tonight, hanging between them awkwardly. It’s a voice Jude recognizes immediately, tinged with hurt, from the day Connor confronted him over Maddie. 

The two boys stare at each other, a seconds-long standoff Jude knows he has no chance of winning stretching uncomfortably between them.

Jude blinks first. 

“I left a note,” he says. 

It sounds dumb even to his own ears. It’s not an answer, and Jude knows it. Judging by the look on his face, Connor knows it too. 

“Yeah,” Connor says, reaching into his pocket. “I got it.” 

He pulls out crumpled notebook paper, unfolding and turning it over in his hands, and Jude racks his brain, desperately searching for something to say, something better than the scribbled _sorry I had to leave see you Monday_ written in black ink on - Jude squints - the back of his math homework? 

Jude winces.

He’d been in a rush too. 

Crouched on the floor in the dark of Connor’s room, the white paper practically glowing in his hands, Jude almost wrote, simply, _couldn’t sleep_. True, and honest, Jude wonders now if it would have been better, good enough, at least temporarily, to answer the question in Connor’s head so he’d roll over and go back to sleep instead of following Jude home at one in the morning.

The words still sit on the back of Jude’s tongue as he watches Connor study the note, the skin on Connor’s forehead creasing the way it does sometimes in Biology, like when they were learning about inheritance patterns and - 

“I said I was sorry.” 

“What?” Jude asks, startled.

Connor lifts his head, his eyes sort of desperate and pleading. “I said I was sorry. I talked to my dad. I don’t know -” Connor’s voice breaks, and he shrugs helplessly. “What do you want me to do?”

There were things Jude expected, and deserved. Things he could deal with. Not this. Connor should be mad at him, not this. This was so much worse. “No, that’s not … it’s not _that_.”

Connor eyes him skeptically. “Then why are you being weird? Why did you leave?”

Jude shrugs. “I left because …” 

Looking at Connor, answers flood his mind. He left because he couldn’t sleep, because he felt guilty, because he kept letting Connor put himself out there, again and again, to get rejected, to be hurt, because he wanted Connor to go away. But he didn’t really. He left because it wasn’t working, trying to push Connor away, and it needed to before Connor left on his own.

“Jude?”

He left because he was still afraid of having the rug pulled out from under him. He left because he was afraid of losing his best friend. None of that was Connor’s fault, and maybe it was time to tell him. 

“Remember,” Jude starts, slowly, “when you asked me,” _kind of, sort of, without using the word_ , “if I was gay?”

Connor ducks his head, like he’s embarrassed. “Yeah …”

He looks like he might apologize again and Jude panics.

“I don’t know!” 

Connor’s head jerks up. He looks Jude in the eye, and blinks. 

“What?” 

It’s overwhelming sometimes, the need to believe in Connor. To believe he meant it when he said he didn’t care if Jude is gay. Connor never cared before about the ways Jude is different, like the other kids do. And he still wanted to be Jude’s friend, seemed to want it as much as Jude wants to be his friend. 

But there’s still a place, deep in the back of Jude’s mind, that replays Connor’s words from that day at school on an endless loop.

“ _I know it’s not true_ …”

Connor was confident he knew and now, after everything, even if Connor thinks, or suspects, or wonders, it’s different from _knowing_ that it might be true. And it’s that knowing that leaves Jude bracing himself for what comes next even as he hears himself say it again, slowly, and clearly. 

“I don’t know.” 

Connor nods and tilts his head, looking back at Jude thoughtfully. “That’s why you left?”

“Yeah,” Jude says, a little easier than before.

Connor nods again, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s still studying Jude, and Jude has to fight not to fidget under the scrutiny. It doesn’t seem bad, but there’s something different about the way Connor’s looking at him, something that makes Jude’s heart beat faster.

“We never finished the game,” Connor says quietly. “We could … if it would help.”

Warning bells go off in Jude’s head, so loud he’s surprised lights don’t turn on up and down the block, that bleary-eyed adults don’t come stumbling out in their pajamas and bathrobes to see what’s going on. Somehow the houses stay quiet, and the neighbors stay asleep, leaving Jude to question if Connor could possibly be saying what Jude thinks he’s saying, and why he’s saying it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jude says finally.

“You don’t want to?” Connor asks.

“Do you?” Jude volleys back. 

“... I ... don’t _not_ want to,” Connor offers, his voice low and slightly hesitant.

Jude frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Connor says quickly, defensively. “Just …” Connor pauses, one second, two, three. “I would … if you would.”

It sounds like a question, the way Connor says it. And it makes Jude light-headed once he recognizes it, realizes what Connor is doing, and what he’s saying.

“ _I would, if you would?_ ”

It wasn’t long after they first met that Jude noticed the way Connor always seemed to add a _'Like it?'_ or _'Don’t you think?'_ or _'Pretty cool, right?'_ Connor, always looking for approval, reassurance that yes, Jude did like the video game Connor picked out. Yes, Jude did think chili-cheese dog day was the best day of the school week. Yes, Jude also thought the planetarium was cool. 

Yes, Jude would also kiss Connor. 

Jude tilts his head up, then down, an almost imperceptible nod, but it’s enough. Something in Connor’s face relaxes and he takes a step forward. Jude thinks he can almost see a small smile playing at the corners of Connor’s mouth, but then Connor’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and Jude can’t help but close his eyes. 

They kiss for what seems like a long time, until Jude feels breathless and unsteady, but in a good way. He pulls away first, opens his eyes to see flushed skin and wide eyes, and Connor’s mouth hanging open, panting just a little. He looks kind of surprised, and a little clueless, and Jude feels pretty much the same. 

“Come back?” Connor asks softly.

He takes a step back and turns his body slightly, angled in the direction of his house, and waits for Jude, his eyes trained on the smaller boy to make sure he’ll follow. 

Like there was ever any doubt.

Jude takes one last look back at the house behind him, hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder, and nods.

They walk closer than they need to, and Jude can feel Connor sneaking glances at him as they approach the end of the first block. They stop, mostly out of habit, to look both ways before crossing, and Jude takes the opportunity to catch Connor’s eye. He raises an eyebrow, but Connor just shakes his head a little and looks forward, so Jude does the same.

They’re not even all the way across the street when Jude feels the back of Connor’s hand brush against the back of his, and then Connor’s fingers grasping and tangling with his own. 

Jude smiles to himself.

The walk back isn’t nearly long enough with Connor’s hand in his.


End file.
